The Floor Is Lava
by Lif61
Summary: Sam gets back from running an errand and finds Jack standing on the table. His son eggs him into a game of "the floor is lava."


**A/N: Oh look, I wrote something nice for once!**

* * *

"Hey, guys, I'm home!" Sam announced as he entered the bunker.

Shouted greetings met him, and he smiled. By the sound of it, Jack and Dean were up.

Castiel started yelling to him as he descended the stairs, and made his way through the war room, "If you're wondering what we're doing—"

"It was my idea!" Jack finished.

Sam entered the library to the sight of Jack standing on the table closest to him, still in his pajamas like when he'd left, Castiel standing on one over in the back, and Dean in a chair, his feet propped up.

Sam smiled, confused, and laughed a bit.

"What's going on?"

Dean pointed at Sam's feet, and declared, sounding overly grumpy, "You're standing in lava."

"What?"

"Yeah, Sam," Jack said, "you have to get out of the lava."

Castiel was leaping his way across the tables to join Jack, overcoat fluttering with his moments, and then he gave Sam a grave look. "Jack has informed me that this is very serious."

"But Dean's not even playing," Sam pointed out at his brother who was just sitting there.

As a response Dean raised an eyebrow, lifting his feet up higher to show him they weren't on the floor.

"Kid said floor's lava, so floor's lava," Dean explained.

"That's right!" Jack informed them with a wide smile. "Come on. You're dying."

Not eager to be killed off in this game, Sam hoisted himself up onto the table next to his family, now looking down at all of them.

Jack saw Sam standing there and winced, "You were in the lava too long. You lost your right foot."

Sam eyed Dean and Cas to see if this was a joke or not, and they both gave him looks that told him he had to comply. Arms out to try and keep his balance, Sam lifted his right foot. Sure, he was strong, but he wasn't used to keeping his balance like this without something to hang onto, so he wobbled. The floor seemed like it'd be unkind to him if he fell, but it was worth it because Jack started laughing.

He leaped over to join Sam on the table, getting under one arm to help steady him.

Castiel started hauling Dean up out of his chair, and his brother almost fell over backwards. He whacked at his arm, trying to get him to stop, Jack giggling the whole time. After quite a bit of struggling, Dean was sprawled on the table on his stomach, legs hanging off the edge. Cas held out a hand to help him up, and he grumbled and whacked it aside, getting to his feet on his own.

There wasn't any object to the game, and it was nice not having an end goal in mind, not worrying about everything for once. They just went from table to table, chair to chair, trying to not "die." Jack almost fell backwards at one point, and before Sam had a horrible vision of his son's head cracking open on the floor, Castiel grabbed him and hauled him forward.

Dean got out, seemingly on purpose, and he grabbed a beer and watched them play, telling Jack to try and push Sam and Cas off the tables. That left Sam hopping away from Jack, or dragging himself from table to chair to table. Eventually he fell, curled up on his side, Dean laughing at him.

"You're dead!" Jack announced.

Sam glanced up at Castiel, as if he could help him, but the angel gave him a sympathetic look and shrugged.

"Is this even safe?" Sam asked, clambering up, hand on a table. Jack toed his hand off, and he raised them in a placating gesture as his son fake-glared down at him.

"No," Castiel addressed him. "Lava is two-thousand-two-hundred degrees Fahrenheit, and we're surrounded by it."

So the game continued, Sam on edge as he watched his son leap about the room, and he ended up in a chair, the legs wobbling as it teetered back. He ran to help him, but Castiel thrust out his hand, focusing intently, and the chair steadied.

"Hey, no Grace!" Jack yelled. "That's cheating."

"You know what else is cheating?" Dean asked. He got up from his seat, got onto the table with Cas and shoved him. The angel fell in his surprise, landing on his back with a grunt.

Dean held up his arms. "I win!"

"Dean, that's not how that works!"

"You can't play, you're dead!"

"Dean!"

"Back and ready to haunt your asses," he announced.

Sam shot at him under his breath, "Don't swear in front of the kid."

Dean stuck his tongue out, which set Jack off laughing, and now he was trying to get away from his "ghost dad," miming throwing salt at him, and smiling when Dean pretended it hurt him.

Jack eventually did fall, so caught up in running from Dean, who was now trying to "kill him" to get him in the lava. Sam caught him, his son slamming into his arms, out of breath, and surprised.

"I think that's enough," he said, though he was happy to see Jack was okay.

Dean growled, mimicking a victorious monster, and then he fell, like an invisible hand had pushed him. He caught his balance before going down, and Castiel started laughing at his handiwork, a warm sound that filled the room.

Sam pat Jack on the shoulder as he released him from his hug, and for the first time in awhile he felt light, peaceful. If anyone had told him years ago that he'd be raising a kid alongside his brother and an angel he would've asked what they were taking. But this was his life now, and god, moments like this were good.


End file.
